Chapter 2

2

On Friday, my life was thrown out the window.

When I got back from my last class, a crowd had gathered in the hallway. My clothes, my textbooks, and a half-finished carton of milk were scattered across the floor. The milk had leaked, soaking the corner of my Advanced Calculus book. Someone had stepped on my favorite gray sweater, leaving a muddy footprint right in the center.

My toothbrush was in the communal mop bucket. My towel was draped over the third-floor railing―it must have drifted there when they threw it from the sixth.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea to let me through.

Chloe stood at the dorm door, flanked by our other roommate, Mia. Chloe looked triumphant, like she had finally done something heroic. Mia wouldn't look at me; she just stared at my dirty scarf on the ground.

"I packed your stuff for you," Chloe said. "We don't want your kind in this room."

"My kind?" I asked.

She laughed.

"You know what you are," Chloe's voice rose, ensuring the entire hallway heard. "You've cycled through three designer bags in one semester. Your mom came to visit last month wearing a coat with a broken zipper, and you made her wait outside for forty minutes. Does your family own an oil well, or are you just selling yourself?"

More people gathered to watch. Not a single person spoke up for me. Girls from the neighboring rooms leaned against their doorframes, enjoying the show.

I knelt down and picked up my calculus book. The milk was half-dry and sticky. When I lifted the sweater, the dried mud flaked off. The scarf was ruined―covered in floor grime. My mom always washed that scarf by hand in warm water, careful not to ruin the wool.

"Nothing to say for yourself?" Chloe pressured me.

I shook the dirt off my book. A piece of paper fell out from the pages―a note my dad had written me last month. His handwriting was neat and sharp. "Elara, do you have enough spending money? I'm looking at a commercial lot in Miami; I need you to come help me check it out when the semester ends."

Before I could grab it, Chloe snatched the paper. She scanned it and read it out loud for everyone.

"Do you have enough money? Looking at a lot in Miami?"

She burst into a fit of laughter.

"Your dad is a real estate mogul now? Isn't he a delivery driver? That beat-up Ford van he parked behind the cafeteria last year―the one your mom was hauling your blankets out of? A lot in Miami? He probably means a parking spot. Or wait, do you even know who your real father is?"

The crowd laughed along with her. Even Mia let out a small giggle before catching herself.

I snatched the note back, folded it twice, and tucked it into my book.

"The anniversary ceremony is next week," Chloe said, pointing to the bulletin board. "The dean said you're on the logistics crew. You'll be moving chairs, handing out water, and cleaning up. They don't want you in the spotlight―wouldn't want you embarrassing the school."

She leaned in close, her voice a poisonous whisper.

"The whole school knows you're a plaything. If you have any dignity left, you'll drop out after the ceremony."

"Fine," I said. Then I gathered my wet, dirty, trampled belongings and walked through the crowd.

In the hallway mirror, I saw my reflection. I was carrying a pile of junk, my hair was a mess, and my sweater was ruined. But my back was perfectly straight.